


The Heart Wants

by justcallmeasmodeus



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcallmeasmodeus/pseuds/justcallmeasmodeus
Summary: Eliot, Margo, and Quentin, all tangled up together again.





	The Heart Wants

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a small drabble, playing around with soulmate AU angst.

It was one of those things that had managed to seep out of the world of magic and into that of the non-adept: the concept of soulmates. Everyone had a soulmate just as sure as every living being breathed. If you were lucky you found yours before one of you died. 

Luck had always been a fine line for Margo to walk.

Eliot had arranged another party, and this time someone drunkenly suggested they all get together and perform the spell that would tell you your soulmate, and then share it with the group. It was mere child’s play really, a simple first year spell that helped fully open the door to magic. One of Margo’s friends had shown her when they were still kids in highschool messing around with a few spells their parents had taught them, so Margo knew that it worked. She already knew who her soulmate was, and she hoped that maybe tonight he would finally find out that she was his. 

Anticipation bubbled in the pit of Margo’s stomach as the other side of the circle began conjuring the little blue pieces of paper. On the outside she put on an air of calm, cool, and collected, making the right comments at the right times, and pretending that she could care less about what was going on around her. In reality, she was focused on him. The way he smiled and laughed, the way he held his drink, the way his hair bounced as he moved. He was perfect in her eyes, and he always would be. That’s how this all worked.

She snapped to attention as she heard his name read from another piece of paper. Her eyes scanned the room to see who was reading, because this couldn’t possibly be happening and it must be a cruel joke.

Quentin Coldwater was sitting beside Eliot, a red blush blooming on his cheeks and a blue card trembling in his hands.   
Fuck. This cannot be happening. Fuck. What is happening? There has to be a mistake. He has to have fucked up somehow.

Then Eliot’s hands were running through the spell quickly. Margo was enchanted by the fluidity of his movements, and the ease at which magic came to him. His blue card appeared in his hands, and Margo bit her lip as a smile spread across Eliot’s face. He looked up at her and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She knew that Quentin had to have fucked up somehow.

“Quentin Coldwater.” As his name left Eliot’s lips, Margo’s world screeched to a halt. The floor dropped out from beneath her, and she put her hand on Eliot’s arm to keep from falling over. She forced a smile on her face, but Eliot wasn’t paying attention to her. His eyes were on Quentin.

“Do you know what this means Q?” She head Eliot say.

“I think so, but I’m not exactly sure. Should we talk about it?”

It was like a bad movie, a bad movie that couldn’t possibly be happening to Margo. Sure, she had wanted Eliot to fuck Quentin, to get it out of his system, just like all the other guys, but she had never wanted this to happen.

“I’ve always been more of a fan of action myself.” Eliot leaned in and pressed his lips against Quentin’s.

While everyone was distracted Margo stood up. She walked calmly out of the room, someone’s empty glass in her hand to appear as though she was getting a new drink. Eliot would know better, she always used a charmed glass so she would never have to worry about a refill, but she didn’t think that Eliot would be looking for her any time soon. She sat the glass down on the bar before running up to her room. She shut and locked the door, putting up a ward to prevent any drunken couples from walking in on her. 

She sat on her bed and ran through the spell for what probably was the hundredth time in her life. The little blue card appeared, and it read the same name that it always did. She felt a burn rising in the back of her throat, all the way up to her eyes. Her chin began to quiver, and she swallowed hard, trying to swallow the feelings that were suddenly rushing back after having disappeared for the past four years.

I’m not good enough. I am worth nothing. There is something wrong with me. I am a mistake.

A single tear pattered on the card. Margo got up and stalked over to her desk, quickly undoing the ward on the upper right hand drawer and yanking it open. Inside were stacks of identical blue cards. She laid the newest one in, name side up. They used to bring her joy, but now they just glared up at her mockingly. “Eliot Waugh, Eliot Waugh, Eliot Waugh,” each stack screamed at her until she slammed the drawer shut and reinstated the wards. 

She couldn’t let him know. It would crush him, and he was finally happy. She could swallow this heartbreak, and hide it, just like she did before. His happiness is what mattered. Tomorrow, she would put her game face on. Tomorrow, she would get up and pretend that she was fine.

Tonight she would grieve, and cry, and feel. She pulled a bottle of whiskey out from under her bed, and she drank until everything felt numb. She curled up around it in bed, and she let everything go. By the time she was done crying, the party downstairs had long gone silent. 

She heard someone stumbling down the hall toward her room. They slammed against the door, and mumbled something under their breath. As Eliot took the wards down and walked through her door, she pretended to be asleep. He stumbled over to the side of her bed, and she could feel him looking down at her. She felt the bed settle as he crawled underneath the covers and pulled her close.

She could smell Quentin’s aftershave on his undershirt, and it made her stomach uneasy.

“My dearest Bambi,” Eliot whispered loudly, “I have so much to tell you about tonight.” He giggled, and his breath smelled like gin. “But for now, I love you.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead.

Margo hoped that he wouldn’t remember the tears streaming down her face as he passed out.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, placing her hand under his shirt and directly above his beating heart.


End file.
